Rough Magic Read online

  “Amy, you were right. The ancients must have hidden the spindle underground. When you activated the orb, the initial communication said they had renounced their magic and were waiting for the mundane humans’ technology to reach the stage where it could kill the bathumas. If they were waiting for that development, then they’d have hidden the world spindle somewhere that required a technological advance to reach.”

  Istvan’s tail flicked. “We missed a patent fact about the orb. The krakenling who found it did so underwater at a distance from land and beneath the surface that a human with primitive technologies couldn’t reach. At a minimum, you’d have required a breathing tube to survive its retrieval.”

  Nora’s limp feathers ruffled with interest.

  I kept a neutral expression on my face. The rain had woken the scent of her earlier fear on her plumage. It wasn’t the best aroma to share breakfast with.

  She gulped some tea and bobbed her head at Istvan. “So the world spindle would have to be concealed at a location equally difficult for a human to access.” She looked at me. “What sort of equipment would you take spelunking that an ancient human wouldn’t have had?”

  “Light is the obvious one.” I didn’t even have to think about that. “They’d have had torches or maybe basic lamps. I’m not sure how deep underground, or the distance underground, that they could have traveled with those.” Idly, I scraped up the remnants of porridge in my bowl. “Archaeologists have found quite impressive ancient earthworks and excavations. People weren’t afraid to go underground.”

  “Rope,” Istvan said.

  I tapped the spoon. “They’d have had rope, but maybe not as long or as reliable, and with their light coming from naked flames, I doubt they’d have swung far on a rope.”

  “The ancient mages might have employed a crevice as a natural barrier.” Nora was taking mental notes of the conversation.

  “Distance underground, hazards.” I began clearing our dishes to the sink. “The other question is what did the ancients do that they were confident their descendants would find the world spindle? That’s what I’ve been thinking about. In the orb they mentioned stars, but there aren’t stars underground. Glow worms, maybe. Or did they mean stars metaphorically, like the quintessences that they sung into place for the latticework?”

  Nora preened a couple of feathers, and spat one out. She immediately apologized. “Sorry.” She pecked it up and dropped it in the scrap bucket on top of an apple core and cheese rinds. “We haven’t detected any quintessences.”

  But then, Nora’s team hadn’t detected the quintessences that had held up the latticework pattern. There could be quintessences underground. Ancient human magic had proven elusive for the Faerene.

  Istvan stretched, cautiously. The cookhouse didn’t leave him much room. “Have you and Chad identified potential sites?”

  “It depends. Chad argues that the locations where we hypothesize that magic is coalescing into djinn are the most likely sites for the spindle. His idea is that the spindle is an anomaly that would attract magic, and consequently, feed the creation of a djinn.”

  “The idea has merit.”

  Nora grumbled. “Too many assumptions. But Quossa agrees with you. We have two sites in the South American Territory and one in yours. The first is in the center of the Yucatan Peninsula. The ancient people of the region knew those caves. The area is limestone. The second South American site is at the northern edge of the Amazon basin among the tabletop mountains, the tepui.”

  “On a mountain? Not in a cave? I thought we thought—”

  Nora spoke over my impulsive interruption. “There are sinkholes. The landscape is eerie. My brother delights in the area and has had me traverse it a couple of times.”

  I stared at her with big eyes. This was the first that I’d heard she had a brother and that he’d also joined the Migration. “You have family here?”

  “She has. Hush,” Istvan said.

  I frowned, embarrassed that I’d required the reminder to focus.

  “Devin even goes underground. The caves are big enough to allow a griffin, at least in the beginning. However, I never noticed any unusual concentration of magic, nor has he mentioned one.”

  I didn’t ask why her clever Faerene scientific technology had failed to detect the world spindle or ripples from it prior to the unlocking of Earth’s magic flows. The krakenling’s discovery of humanity’s pearl and the lethal emergence of the previously unknown bathumas were evidence that the Faerene technologies’ calibrations weren’t one hundred percent accurate.

  “And the third location?” Istvan asked.

  “North America. East of the Grand Canyon in the area of Monument Valley. We rated it third likeliest. There are caves in the region, but there’s also a lot of open ground. It’s difficult to imagine that any resources, including shelter, have gone unexplored by humans.”

  I’d had an excellent education, pre-apocalypse, which made the gaps in my knowledge confronting. All the oldies who’d gone on about the internet rotting children’s motivation and ability to memorize what they could instead of looking it up later may have had a point. “Monument Valley is where they have those big rocks, right? The mesas, from the old Westerns?”

  “Mesas, yes,” Nora said. “Westerns? I don’t know.”

  “Movies. Westerns are—were—movies. Well, they could be books, too. Music, country and western.” My brain was connecting dots while I babbled. “There are First Peoples out there. Hopi, Navajo.”

  “Pueblo and Ute.” Nora seemed to have no trouble with her memory. “All the locations have people with local legends, but we don’t have time to research their stories.”

  Research could be as simple as asking them…and yet, the question was who among them did you ask, and why would they trust any of us, even human me, with answers?

  Steam rose up from the hot water I poured into the sink.

  “Quossa had an idea.” Nora sounded uncertain. “Involving Amy.”

  I looked over my shoulder at her.

  She answered my silent question. “The initial communication from the orb mentioned a concept of acua, of opening a third eye to sense energy or, potentially, magic. Quossa suggested that this may be an instinctive human approach to magic which our training, both at the human familiar trials and later with Istvan, squashed.”

  I flicked my hands free of water and dried them cursorily on my trousers.

  Nora crouched, bringing herself to my height. “We identified human mages by their instinctive use of magic. You channeled yours into healing the people of your town. Your magic followed your emotions. It answered your greatest desire, which was to save others. Quossa’s idea is to open your third eye, or at least, to exercise a related talent, by focusing on your emotions.”

  “Okay.” I was ready to try it, and Istvan was silent, so it couldn’t be a terrible idea. “What do I do?”

  Nora’s wings rippled as she prepared herself. She seemed reluctant. Maybe the unscientific nature of this approach appalled her. “Think of Rory.”

  That was easy enough.

  “He is in great danger,” she said.

  “What?!” I swung around to stare at Istvan.

  His claws scraped loudly over the stone floor and his tail whipped against the wall. “In my absence, Rory is responsible for all magical happenings and threats in the North American Territory. With the rough magic, he is in grave danger as he takes the lead in rescuing people.”

  I’d known that truth, but hearing the danger said out loud made it more real.

  “He could die,” Nora said. “Now, in the next hour, tomorrow. Swiftly or with painful slowness from a spell’s failure. If we had the world spindle we could tame the rough magic and save him. You could save him.”

  I could hear my own breathing and it was too fast. A small part of my brain registered that I had to let these feelings take me. This was the emotional driver that Quossa had told Nora to trigger in me. I allowed my fear and panic to rise.


  Nora said harshly. “You could save or damn all of us, Amy. You have to find the world spindle. Where is it?”

  Rory.

  But also Istvan and my family. The rest of our pack. The people of Justice. Everyone who’d survived the apocalypse and the sealing of the Rift.

  I turned instinctively to face west.

  Nora switched on her slate. Despite her tiredness, she channeled magic into it, bringing up a map.

  I stared at two familiar continents, the Americas.

  “North America.” My voice sounded hoarse, strained.

  Nora zoomed in again and again as I nodded with each closer focus. The Grand Canyon appeared and vanished. Monument Valley showed up.

  Greater and greater detail. Less and less options. None yet were the truth that something in me fought to find.

  “There.” I put my finger on the map before retreating three steps and leaning against the sink. It cut into my spine and I didn’t care about the discomfort. I was unsteady, both from what I had done and the sensation of moving, or being moved, by whatever had flowed through me. Plus, I trembled from the emotions of fear for Rory and everyone.

  “Seventeen miles from where Chad located the djinn.” Nora eyed me with a gaze that hovered between awe and doubt.

  “Then we have our first location,” Istvan said, repeating the coordinates and committing them to memory.

  I turned back to the sink. The water had cooled. I emptied it halfway and added hot water. Immersing my hands up to the wrists in the warm water helped to chase away my shivers.

  “You say there’s a djinn in the spindle valley?” Istvan asked Nora.

  “Chad believes that is the simplest explanation for the anomalous magic reading. It is a concentrated, chaotic bundle of magic. Active magic.”

  Istvan tapped my ankle with his tail. It was his attempt to subtly check on me and reassure me. He could be awkward with emotions.

  I nodded at him to say that I was okay, without interrupting the discussion between him and Nora.

  She was focused on the map on the slate. “Opening a portal near that much concentrated magic would be risky even if it was controlled. You’ll have to arrive at the edge of it. I’d prefer a buffer of a hundred miles.”

  “Two miles,” Istvan said. “I’m not wasting time traveling. I’ll control the portal. Chances are I can’t fit underground, anyway. So I’ll be responsible for getting everyone there and back. Which means, Amy, we’ll portal to Justice first to collect Rory and the others who’ll accompany us. I’d like two additional humans.”

  The only humans whom Istvan knew in Justice were my family. “Who?”

  “Jarod and Digger.”

  “They don’t have magic,” I said uncertainly.

  My urge to protect them by excluding them was undermined by the knowledge that both would volunteer, and that this was their choice. They had supported me in my increasing involvement in Faerene society, an involvement that had led to them leaving their own home due to the suspicion of their neighbors and moving to a Faerene town. I had to support them and their free choice.

  Istvan dipped his head to my level, his beak gently touching my face, before he straightened. “It could be that the ancient human mages set up the world spindle to be found by humans without access to magic.”

  “In which case we need someone like Jarod or Digger,” I concluded. Both of them were about as magical as tree stumps—to Jarod’s disappointment. He’d been the one to wheedle a magic abilities test out of the apothecary Sabinka. The others had taken Istvan and Rory’s word for their lack of magic ability. “They’ll readily go with us.”

  “Yes. But we should give them time to prepare. Nora, who is going to guard humanity’s orb in our absence?”

  “Thane and Daud.”

  “An orc and a dragon,” he said, likely for my benefit. “Good choices. When will they get here?”

  I’d never realized before how much of disaster management was about the dissemination and control of information. Even informally between us, it stole time and could cause frustration.

  I took my frustration out on the frying pan, scrubbing at a burned on piece of bacon.

  “Vadim said at dawn. They’re to portal in from Civitas with additional supplies.”

  Portals were risky with the magic growing increasingly chaotic. To reach the world spindle in the timeframe, we had to use them.

  How often could you be lucky before luck ran out?

  The memory of Soma haunted me. A dragon had plummeted from the sky with the aerodynamic grace of a rock. Currently, magic couldn’t be trusted.

  I concentrated on scrubbing the frying pan. I could control whether it was clean or dirty.

  “Then they’ll be here shortly,” Istvan said. “We’ll leave immediately following their arrival.”

  His decision flooded me with relief. I had to brace my arms against the sink. When I did, my head turned automatically to stare at the orb on its cushion in the center of the table. It had caused so much trouble. Maybe later, if we recovered well from the current global magical disaster, I’d be more appreciative of the knowledge it contained. For now, I’d be glad to leave it behind.

  “I’ll be ready,” I said. In reality, all I had to do was put my coat back on.

  Thane and Daud arrived as I finished cleaning the sink and my hands of bacon grease. Given the dragon’s size, they consulted with Istvan and Nora outside the cookhouse. I wasn’t interested in their discussion, anyway. My focus was on returning home. After the emotions Nora had purposely stirred up in me, I wouldn’t settle until I’d seen Rory.

  “Amy,” Istvan called.

  I buttoned my coat before walking out into the frosty morning. The air stung my nose and cheeks.

  Istvan and I said brief farewells before crossing to the far side of the campsite.

  Thane went into the cookhouse to guard the orb.

  Nora and Daud stood in front of it, watching us.

  “Wait for my order, then run through the portal,” Istvan said.

  I nodded.

  Reality shimmered.

  “Now,” Istvan snapped.

  I ran through the center of the portal, then sharply to the right so that there was room for Istvan’s fast entrance. He’d opened the portal to the street in front of the magistrate hall.

  He followed me through two seconds later.

  Chapter 6

  Istvan and I left the Pontic Mountains in the early hours of the morning. When we dashed through the portal we arrived in Justice around midnight.

  The late hour didn’t prevent a hundred people running to meet us as they sensed the major magic of the portal.

  “Istvan and Amy,” Berre shouted. He was pack, a friend, and one of the magisterial guard unit members. He was also in his half-form as a werewolf, which meant he was massive when he picked me up and hugged me. I half flew when, at Rory’s arrival, Berre passed me to him.

  Rory caught me and for a few seconds nothing else mattered. All the worry for him that I’d been holding in evaporated. He was here, with me. We’d keep each other safe.

  Istvan wasn’t permitted a private moment. Everyone crowded around him, filling the night with noisy chaos. “Be quiet!” He so seldom shouted that doing so now silenced everyone. “We have no time. There are preparations to be made before Harold’s broadcast, which is in six hours. I want my night clerks, plus Radka, Dorotta, Berre and Yana.”

  The magistrate hall was set up to run twenty four hours a day. The night clerks were all present, although now looking sheepish. They’d abandoned their duties to rush out and greet us. Dorotta was noticeably absent. A big copper-colored dragon is difficult to miss. That Yana, Berre’s mate and Rory’s lieutenant, wasn’t pushing in to claim a hug meant she was off on a job, as well.

  After a couple of fractional nods from Rory, two pack members split off from the crowd to seek out the missing people Istvan requested.

  And Istvan hadn’t finished yet. “Someone fetch A
my’s brother, Jarod, and Digger.”

  Jarod, like Yana, would have been pushing forward if he was present.

  Digger was less obtrusive, and not just because he was older. “I’m here. Jarod is on the docks.”

  “I’ll get him.” The cry came from Hew, one of Jarod’s new elf friends.

  I slipped from Rory’s arms to give Digger a hug. Surviving the apocalypse together, before we’d met any Faerene in person, had cemented our relationship as adopted father and daughter. The army produced scarily competent sergeants, and Digger was a prime example. I’d trust him not merely with my life, but with Rory’s.

  He kissed my temple. “Niamh and Craig are sleeping at the house. We’re dividing our time so that someone is always with Stella.”

  “How is she?”

  “Fine. Don’t worry.” He gave my shoulders a quick squeeze before turning me around to start up the steps to the grand front entrance of the magistrate hall. “But no one should be alone right now, and she’s better at home than out.”

  Given the mob following Istvan inside, a lot of people didn’t want to be alone. And, of course, everyone craved news.

  Discipline held, however. Only those Istvan had named squashed into his office with him. Pack and friends gave me small smiles, pats and greetings as they returned to their own business, albeit with definite reluctance and curiosity.

  In turn, I studied them with growing concern. Over the slate, Tineke had mentioned that the rough magic made Faerene feel sick. She’d compared it to the flu, and she’d had the pale face and shakiness of a flu victim.

  As the energy boost from the excitement of Istvan’s arrival subsided, the Faerene around me seemed to collectively inhale and brace themselves to endure. Their faces fell into lines of determination.

  “Close the doors, please.”

  Berre and Emil sprang to obey Istvan’s order.

  Sorcha, a werewolf member of our pack, a former military intelligence officer, and currently a leatherworker with her own shop, sketched a salute. “I’ll stand guard outside and keep people away.”